


you call me lavender

by deathsweetqueen



Series: Winteriron Bingo 2019 [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Civil War Team Iron Man, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Steve Rogers Feels, Steve is trying, Tony is Bitter and Angry, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 02:45:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19122982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathsweetqueen/pseuds/deathsweetqueen
Summary: “So, what’s going on?” Tony asks, finding his seat in the conference room beside Rhodey.“Amora-” Maria says.Tony sends a withering glare at Thor, who has the grace to look sheepish.“The fuck,” Tony begins. “is wrong with your ex?”In which Tony and Bucky are cursed by Amora, and it ends sweet.Written for the Winteriron Bingo for the "love potion" square (B2) and the Tony Stark Bingo for the "kink: healing cock" square (R2).





	you call me lavender

**Author's Note:**

> The title for this fic comes from Lana Del Rey's song, Mermaid Motel.
> 
> Warnings: you may decide to debate the consent issues of two people making out while under a love spell/curse from a witch, as well as the consent issues of someone engaging in such behaviour with the man who was brainwashed to kill his parents.

“So, what’s going on?” Tony asks, finding his seat in the conference room beside Rhodey.

“Amora-” Maria says.

Tony sends a withering glare at Thor, who has the grace to look sheepish.

“The fuck,” Tony begins. “is wrong with your ex?”

Thor grimaces. “I fear that Amora is beyond reason now.”

Tony snorts. “Did she _ever_ have reason?”

Steve clears his throat. “If we can get back to the mission?”

Tony just stares him down, leaning back in his chair, as belligerent as he can possibly be. The tension slices through the air, like ice splitting, and everyone just waits, their lungs in their throat, for something, _anything_ , even Tony losing his temper and lunging across the table to throttle Steve, _anything_ would be better than this.

But Tony refuses to give any of these arseholes even a shred of his dignity.

So, he continues to stare, daring Steve to do something, to give him a hint of his anger (he won’t give them a shred of his dignity, but he will cut a bitch, namely Steve Rogers, before he takes any shit).

“Stark.”

“What?” Tony asks Maria, sharply.

“The mission,” she says, slowly.

Tony blows out a breath between his teeth. “Fine,” he mutters, tipping his head back.

“Thank you,” Maria says, snidely. “Like I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted,” Tony shows no sign of remorse whatsoever. “Amora has been sighted in Philadelphia on three separate instances in the past two weeks.”

Steve leans forward, his jaw set like stone. “Do we have any intel on her actions?”

Tony looks him over, because he can, because he doesn’t really care anymore, memorising the shallow changes to him that the Civil War (what a fucking joke; Civil fucking Divorce, more like it) had brought out – a thick, scruffy dark beard, lines around his blue, blue eyes, and fatigue dragging his footsteps.

Pity blossoms in his chest, but then he remembers the solid, raging look in Steve Rogers’ eyes when he raised his shield above his head in Siberia and he remembers the curdle of fear in his belly at the thought that this man, the man that he loved more than anything in this world, would be the death of him, would have killed him, wiped him from this world so easily.

His heart only knows rot now, especially for the man who looks at him with big puppy eyes, begging him to forgive him.

 _Fuck no_ , Tony would snort if he could.

His eyes slip to the left, only to lock on the blue-grey eyes of the Winter Soldier, who hasn’t taken his eyes off Tony at all. Tony bears no anger against him, not anymore; no, all of that belongs to Steve now and in fact, they’re somewhat friends now, him and Barnes (he absolutely refuses to call him Bucky, goat name that it is) but Tony’s hands still shake just the slightest before he settles them on the edge of the conference table.

He raises an eyebrow.

Barnes shrugs. _What can you do?_ he asks with his eyes.

Tony rolls his eyes and directs his attention to Maria.

“So, what’s the plan?” he demands.

“Since we think she’s made her hideout in this warehouse,” Maria points to the map on the hologram in the centre of the conference table. “Our plan is that we send in people from each direction, from the back entrance and the front and from top, so we can surround her. She won’t be able to get away.”

Tony leans back. “Pairs, then?” He sends Rhodey a lazy smile. “What d’you say, honeybear?”

Maria cuts off anything that Rhodey would have said to him. “Oh, no, you don’t.”

Tony lifts an eyebrow, cool and sharp – he isn’t the rage-induced hot mess that he was before the Civil Divorce.

“I beg your pardon,” he says, haughtily.

Maria stares him down, evenly, the perfect match to him, in truth. “You and Rhodes have similar capabilities in the field. It’ll be better suited for the mission if we split you up.”

Tony narrows his eyes, leaning in. “And how do you suppose we do that?”

“You and Barnes, you’ll be a team,” Maria says, sternly. “Thor and Rogers, another. Wilson and Maximoff. Romanoff and Thor.”

Tony’s scowl is the stuff of legends. “That is the single, stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.” His eyes pass over the conference table. “Who here actually thinks that Barnes and I pairing up on a mission together is a good idea?”

No one answers him.

Something twists in his belly.

“Oh, my God,” he says, breathlessly. “Did you bastards plan this?”

No one dares to reply.

Tony rounds on Barnes. “Did you know about this?” he asks, sharply.

Barnes’ eyes are enormous. “No,” he says, vehemently, his nose scrunching up, clearly thinking this is as bad an idea as Tony thinks it is.

“It doesn’t matter,” Maria interjects, almost satisfied. “It’s already decided.”

Tony stares at her, stonily. “And if I refuse.”

Maria shrugs, a gleam in her eyes. “You refuse, and you risk you getting kicked off the Avengers.”

The rage, the utter indignity floods up like lava. _You’ve always fucking hated me, you bitch,_ he thinks.

“Fine,” he says, the words blistering his tongue, and slides to his feet, graceful as a swan. “Come on, Barnes.”

He narrowly avoids the maudlin, lovesick look that Rogers sends his way.

He won’t be that stupid ever again.

* * *

“Did Rogers explain himself?” Tony finds himself asking, as they creep through the back alley to the warehouse.

Barnes sighs. “You mean why the moron decided that bonding time during a risky mission to haul in an alien witch would be a good idea?” he asks, voice thin and dry.

“Pretty much.”

“Nope,” Barnes says, popping the last syllable.

“Fucking losers,” Tony mutters.

“Pretty much.”

Tony doesn’t know if the super soldier is mocking him.

“Look,” Barnes grimaces. “I don’t agree with their methods, but they’ve got a point.”

“Oh?” Tony bites out.

Barnes stares at him, evenly, silently, solemn as the grave. “We have more baggage than anyone else here,” he points out.

Tony snorts. “Clearly you’re yet to meet Wanda Maximoff,” he says, sourly.

Barnes’ pale eyes shine with scorn. “Can we stop pretendin’ like you had anythin’ to do with her parents’ death?” he grunts. “Cause we both know if that were true, by that logic, the CEO of fuckin’ Toyota should have his head on a spike in Times Square.”

Tony finds himself grinning, shaking his head. God, how pathetic has he become, that he smiles for every fucking poor John and Joe around who sides with him over the littlest thing?

“I killed your parents,” Barnes says, bluntly, and wow, do those words make his heart dig hard into his lungs. “You saw that and I remember that. If we’re going to work together, don’t we need to make sure that we actually _can_ work together?”

Tony bristles. “I resent the implication that I’m not capable of maintaining professionalism in a working environment with a colleague that I’m less than fond of.”

Barnes quirks an eyebrow. “One, all those vicious glares you send Steve’s way say differently. Two, the fact that you’re less than fond of me suggests there is something we need to work on.”

“One, the fuckboy deserves it,” Tony sneers. “Two, I was exaggerating for the purposes of the argument.”

“Even so,” Barnes stresses. “It couldn’t hurt for us to try to get along a little better,” he offers, almost shyly.

Tony blinks, owlishly, at him, and laughs, warm and bright, the first laugh that’s left him since the war.

“You’re a good man, Barnes,” he says, fond and rueful. “In a different world, I think I would’ve liked you very much.”

* * *

Amora’s laugh twinkles like starlight, when they emerge into the warehouse. “Look, look, it’s Iron Man,” she says, joyously.

Tony keeps his face mild. “Amora, it’s good to see you again.”

Amora sighs. “It’s been too long, darling.” Her needle-sharp eyes track over to Barnes, who remains quiet and stoic by his side. “And who’s your new friend?”

“Barnes, Amora. Amora, Barnes,” Tony says, flatly, flexing his armoured fingers.

Amora’s eyes gleam with interest. “Have you traded in your strapping young lover for a newer model, Tony?” she asks.

Tony snorts. “Hardly,” he says, scathingly. “And I certainly didn’t come here to debate my love story with you.”

Amora’s lip curls. “You’ve grown cold, Iron Man. No wonder your Captain America found you frigid in the end.”

Tony scowls absolute murder and his repulsor whines to life.

Amora simply smiles, a greedy, lethal thing. “You ought to be warmer, Stark. It would suit you.”

She snaps her fingers and pain explodes across Tony’s face.

He falls.

* * *

He perches on his lap, his faceless lover, shrouded in shadows, tugging at his teeth with his teeth. His big, deft hands wrap around Tony’s slim waist, rutting his hard cock against Tony’s soft, firm belly. Tony moans, writhing in his lap.

A hand winds through his air, tugging his head back to kiss him careful on the mouth, a giant paw winding between him and his faceless lover, now two, to wrap a hand around his cock.

Tony chokes awake, cock hard in his sweatpants. He blinks into the stern white light, recognising the sterilised décor as the med-bay at the compound. He tilts his head to the side, and his head splits wide open.

“Shit,” he groans.

“Tony,” there’s a gasp and it’s Steve ( _no, Rogers_ , he reminds himself; there is no _Steve_ , maybe, there was never a _Steve_ ), sitting by his bedside, reaching for his hand.

Tony flinches away, and Steve’s entire face crumples.

“What happened?” he rasps, fisting his hand in the sheets.

“Amora, she, uh, did something to you, to Bucky. You two just,” Steve rubs the back of his head. “You two just, sort of, hit the ground, after she snapped her fingers. We couldn’t get either of you to wake up.” His voice rises, hysterically.

Tony turns his head, and Barnes is sleeping on the cot beside him.

 _Of fucking course,_ Tony can’t help but think, sourly. _Steve would be a basket case without his precious Bucky._

Shame prickles at him. _That_ was unworthy. It wasn’t Barnes’ fault that Steve had serious fucking co-dependent issues to the point where he’d fucking throw everyone around him in the fire just to save his best friend.

If he wasn’t so certain that Steve was in love with Bucky Barnes, well, he’d be in a lot more therapy than he was already.

“Is he okay?” Tony decides to ask.

“He hasn’t woken up yet,” Steve says, miserably.

Tony turns his head, unable to see the lovesick, loved look in Steve’s eyes. “I’m tired,” he declares, voice thin and taut.

“Oh,” Steve blinks, almost owlishly. They become enormous. “ _Oh_ , yeah, of course. I’ll just, uh, I’ll just…”

 _Go_ , Tony thinks. _Please, go. Stop doing this to me._

Steve’s hand ghosts over his hair, as he once would have touched, stroked his fingers through the mess, over his forehead and cheeks and chin and eyes, and kissed him goodbye.

Steve withdraws his hand, hanging in the air, and steps away from Tony’s bed.

Tony closes his eyes and pretends to sleep.

* * *

When he wakes up next, Barnes is staring at him, pale eyes like needles, sitting on the edge of his cot.

“What?” he demands, voice coming out like sandpaper.

“Just wonderin’ how long you’d sleep,” Barnes says, gruffly, slipping into that Brooklyn twang. “You okay?”

Tony nods. He thinks he is, lying in the warm cot. His head hurts, but pain is his old friend now, and a headache is nothing to sob over, not with what he’s known before.

“You?”

Barnes blinks. “M’fine,” he says.

Tony sighs and grapples to his waist, gripping the sheets. His neck spasms, and he stretches it out, legs swaying back and forth.

“Do you remember what happened?” he asks, lowly.

Barnes’ brow knits. “I remember Amora bein’ a bitch, and some weird magic show thing, and then, nothing,” he says, apologetically.

Tony exhales. “Well, that’s consistent.” He rubs the thick, gnarled scar over his breastbone. “Maybe she was having an off day.”

“Here’s hopin’,” Barnes says, dryly.

Tony’s feet land on the floor and he tries to stand.

The world flips sideways, and he falls. He waits for the inevitable _thunk_ of him hitting the ground and the pain sure to follow. But nothing happens; a warm weight drapes around him, strong, like a barrel, and he looks up, and it’s Barnes, who has him in his arms.

Something swells inside Tony like a black eye, righteous and wanting, and suddenly, he’s surging up, kissing Barnes, hard and messy, arms and legs wrapping around him like an octopus, teeth dragging against his.

To his credit, Barnes fights it, but gives in so easy-like, like it’s everything he’s ever wanted and more, clutching at him like a godly idol.

Barnes is warm, warmer than anything that he’s known in a long time, and that warmth seeps right through, right down to his bones, and it’s like something is leaking inside him.

“Tony, Tony,” Barnes ( _no, Bucky, I have my tongue in his mouth_ ) gasps.

He bears him down to the ground, running him roughshod in just the way he likes, and Tony’s laughing breathlessly against his mouth, where he should be pulling away, pushing him away, drinking himself in a stupor because he’s dry-humping the man who was Tragic Monstere’d into murdering his parents in cold blood.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Tony breaks away with a splitting sound, only to turn enormous eyes onto Steve hovering in the doorway, face all pallor and rage.

Tony licks his lips. “None of your goddamn business,” he rasps.

Steve grimaces. “You two hate each other,” he baulks.

Tony’s eyes narrow. “No, we don’t. We just don’t know each other,” he insists.

“And now you’re making out with him?”

Tony turns his head, feels that rope wringing around them, tangling their lifeblood together.

 _There has never been anyone but you for me_ , he thinks, and his stomach curdles like milk.

“I don’t…” he stumbles to his feet. “I don’t understand. What…”

Steve takes a step forward, hands twitching. “Tony?” he says, cautiously. “Is something wrong?”

Fire licks up his insides, but he ignores it, shaking his head. “It’s nothing, it’s _nothing_ ,” he says, more to himself than anything.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, gently.

Tony gives him a furious look. “Stop haranguing me,” he snaps.

Steve grits his teeth and looks away. He turns to Bucky, stretching out a hand.

“Come on, Buck,” he murmurs. “Let’s leave Tony alone to his resentment. It’s the only friend he likes now.”

Tony flushes blotchy pink from hairline to collar, going rigid with fury. He glowers at the wall, as Steve leads Bucky ( _Barnes_ , he forces himself to remember) out of the medbay. The moment that Barnes crosses the threshold, both he and Tony crumple like a kite with no strings, hitting the ground with a dull, resounding sound. Tony moans, clutching at his belly, the impact knocking the air out of his lungs, and there’s a strange pressure around his chest, around his stomach, like vises, sharp and singular.

Steve is suddenly kneeling beside him, one hand gripping onto Barnes’ shoulder to still him where the other super soldier is trembling on the ground. Steve’s eyes are fearful and over-bright, and the pain spirals, making Tony tremble.

“Steve,” he whispers.

Steve drags Tony into his lap, hand on his hair, the weight of his thick, strong arms settling around him. “It’s okay, Tony,” he soothes, his voice unbearably soft. “It’s okay, I’m here.” 

Tony turns his head, sees Bucky (somehow, he’s become _Bucky_ ) writhing on the floor and reaches for him without even a moment’s hesitation. He doesn’t know what prompts him, what asks it of him, but he nudges his nose against Bucky’s, hands gripping his shoulders, and the touch grounds him, settling Bucky’s trembling and easing Tony’s pain.

“It’s okay,” he sighs. “I’m here.”

His eyes roll back in his head.

* * *

He wakes up to Steve’s hand in his hair, and he leans into the touch, instinctively.

He shouldn’t, he knows; it makes him weak, he knows, but when he opens his eyes a chink and he sees Steve on the edge of his bed, staring down at him, so lovesick, it loosens something in his chest.

“What happened?” he rasps.

A shadow crosses his face.

Tony grips the sheets, heaves himself upwards. “What is it?” he demands, mouth thin as a blade.

There are dark bags under Steve’s eyes, as if he’d been punched twice over (Tony had imagined, a hundred times, a thousand times, punching Steve, but never like this, never when Steve could collapse in sheer exhaustion at any moment).

“Amora-”

“I understand.”

Steve flinches at the flat delivery.

“What did she do to me?” Tony asks, coldly.

Steve grimaces. “Not just you.”

Tony closes his eyes. “Barnes.”

“Yeah.”

“What did she do to us?”

“It’s…” Steve grimaces. “It’s like a love potion,” he says, awkwardly. “Or so Thor says.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Tony says, flatly.

Steve flattens his palm against the sheets. “You two collapsed the second he tried to leave the room, what would you call that?”

“A coincidence,” Tony retorts.

Steve stares at him like he’s a limpid fool, and he has the sudden urge to smack him, this boy he loved so great, that disappointed him so terribly.

 _They all do_ , Tony thinks. _They all disappoint me._

Tony sighs and stares at the sterile-white ceiling. “So, what does Thor think? How do we fix this?”

“We’ve contacted Strange,” Steve says, quietly. “He’s going to take a couple of days, but he should be able to remove all traces of the spell Amora put on the two of you.”

“Good,” Tony sighs. His eyes turn to Bucky, who lies there sleeping. “What about the… side effects?”

“We think…” Steve chews on his lower lip. “We think it would be best if the two of you spent a little more time together, just until this is fixed. We don’t want either of you simultaneously and methodically collapsing into a coma,” he cajoles.

_He killed my parents, my mother, my good, kind mother, and you want me to stomach his presence more than I already have. How much more do you want of me, Steve? When will you be satisfied? When will you have taken your fill?_

Tony clenches his hands in the blanket. “Fine,” he says, curtly.

Steve doesn’t move.

Tony blinks at him. “You can leave now.”

* * *

When Bucky wakes up, Tony is staring at him.

“Love potion,” he says.

“Ah,” Bucky says, and it’s almost sad how easily he accepts it.

“Strange is going to fix it,” Tony offers.

Bucky offers him a sad smile, all of his hurts in a single twist of his mouth. “Okay.”

“We made out,” Tony muses.

“We did.”

His cock stirs with renewed interest, and it takes everything in him not to shoot the appendage a betrayed look.

“We probably will again over the next couple of days, until Strange shows up.”

“Probably,” Bucky says again, easily.

Tony’s eyes thin. “And you’re okay with that?”

“I don’t think I’m a match for alien witch curses, Tony,” Bucky’s mouth twitches into a semblance of a smile. “I could fight it, we both could, but I think we’d lose, don’t you think?”

Tony’s brow knits. “I don’t concede defeat very easily,” he says, slowly.

Tony must be delirious, because he imagines something fond and kind in Bucky’s eyes then, which makes no sense, because a couple of months ago, he was trying his hardest and his damnedest to murder him – so, why on earth would this man look at him like he could paint the sun into the sky?

“I know you don’t,” Bucky says, unbearably soft.

“So…” Tony drawls. “You’re okay if we spontaneously choose to fuck right here on the floor? I’m not unobservant to the consent issues love spells or potions or whatever the fuck is going on here raise.”

Bucky laughs, not unkindly. “I’m not blind, Tony, and I’m not an idiot. It might be the most fucked up thing I’ve ever admitted to anyone, but…” he hesitates for an agonising moment. “I can’t deny that you’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen in my existence. And I thought that long before we came anywhere near Amora, so consent issues can fuck right off.”

“And Steve?”

Bucky purses his lips. “Do you still love him?” he asks, curiously, cocking his head.

Tony frowns. “I don’t _not_ love him,” he says, vaguely.

Bucky’s lips quirk in a half-smile. “You’re a contrary man, Tony Stark,” he remarks.

“I am,” Tony agrees, wholeheartedly. “Now, my head’s hurting, so I’d like it if you kissed me at least. Fucking is also an option.”

Bucky makes a face. “Tony, I-”

“Barnes, Steve doesn’t own me,” he says, coldly. “He didn’t own me when we were screwing, and he doesn’t own me now that we’re not. If you think you’re betraying him somehow, because you inadvertently think he’s the only one who has any sort of _right_ to me, you can gladly fuck off, because I’d rather live the rest of the next couple of days until Strange comes in agony than let you touch me. Pain is nothing new to me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Bucky says, quietly.

“Then, what is it?” Tony snaps.

Bucky shrugs. “You still love him. I don’t want to ruin things between you two going forward.”

Tony snorts. “Believe me, Steve is plenty good at doing that himself.” His hands are hot when he clenches them. “Don’t worry about Steve,” he says, simply. “What happens, happens, and we’ll deal with it.”

Bucky’s strained, stricken smile makes his heart thump painfully in his chest.

“Are you so sure, Tony?” he asks, voice thin.

_No._

“I am,” he lies.

He holds a hand out.

“Now, come.”

Hunger strips Bucky bare, or is it the magic, Tony doesn’t know (he hopes it’s the hunger; it’s the hunger for him too). Bucky surges for him and the impact knocks them both clumsily off the bed, and Tony laughs, pink and smiling, against the hollow of Bucky’s throat. Bucky’s hands are enormous around his body, Tony’s palm finds his heart, and they breathe in tandem.

When Bucky kisses him, baffled and pleased, pale eyes shining with mirth, Tony clutches at his broad shoulders and everything falls away.

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, how I see this end, is that Strange comes and fixes everything, Bucky and Tony keep kissing, Steve and Tony fix their issues with a lot of screaming and fighting and throwing things, and it ends Stuckony.
> 
> I can't imagine writing a sequel for this, but that's just how I see it end for those people who might feel like this is premature.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [You Call Me Sunshine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20512625) by [343EnderSpark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/343EnderSpark/pseuds/343EnderSpark)




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